Review: 'A Christmas Carol' - Austin Chronicle

Review: 'The Hobbit' - Austin American Statesman

Review: The Hobbit: Magical Mystery Tour - Austin Chronicle

Review: Little Shop of Horrors - Austin American Statesman

Review: Little Shop of Horrors: A good Time Out of Joint - Austin Chronicle

Review: The King Stag: A Slice of Serendipity

Exhibitionism

BY BARRY PINEO

A Christmas Carol: Tale of a Highly Human Being

I have difficulty imagining that anyone reading this isn't familiar with this most classic of all Christmas stories because, after all, the name Scrooge has become synonymous with avarice and greed. To a certain extent that is a shame because Scrooge, as presented by Christopher Schario in this adaptation of the Charles Dickens tale, after being taken on a journey through his life by the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, changes significantly. He becomes, in fact, the opposite of what the name Scrooge has come to imply: a loving, caring, giving, highly human being.

In this production presented by Second Youth Family Theatre, one of at least three Carols playing in Austin this holiday season, Chronicle Arts editor Robert Faires serves as director. Faires is fortunate in having Douglas Taylor portray his Scrooge because, while Taylor is not the aging, graying man typically found playing the role, he manages to project both youth and age at appropriate moments and brings to the role an intimate knowledge of death (Taylor recently survived a heart attack) that informs his presentation.

Faires is fortunate in other ways as well. Schario's adaptation centers around a child reading Dickens' story on Christmas Eve, and Faires dedicates the production to this idea. J. Richard Smith's set consists of little more than draped green fabric, a stationary double bed, a couple of podiums, and a few chairs; costume designer Sukriye Yuksel uses pieces of period costumes rather than complete ones; and Faires' actors use these pieces of set and costumes to conjure a tremendous number of characters and places to great effect, most particularly during a party at which they evoke dozens of guests (only nine performers appear in the production). Faires' actors move through the text with intense focus, and while some bring more to the table than others, some seemed to be suffering from opening-night jitters, more than a few attempted British dialects that were, in the end, almost totally unnecessary, and all knew exactly what story they needed to tell and told it well, particularly Tamara Beland and Joeleen L. Ornt, both in multiple roles. Most impressive of all were the puppets designed and executed by Brian Gaston and Patrick Johnson that were used to portray the ghosts, two in particular. After Marley's ghost, with its disembodied head and writhing, stringy, gray body, exited, my 12-year-old son leaned over to me and whispered, "That was cool!" And when the Ghost of Christmas Present entered, a living giant walked among us, and I stared at the stage, jaw agape.

It was, in fact, the Ghost of Christmas Present that made the greatest impression on me, and not only by its presence. During one scene, the ghost told Scrooge that just because he was rich didn't mean he had power over life and death, and I couldn't help but think of the present administration and the possibility of visiting the violence we Americans seem to hold in such esteem on those who have much less than we do. This was, I believe, exactly Dickens' intent in writing his story well more than 150 years ago: We should embrace everyone, not for what they have, but simply for what they hold in common with us -- our humanity -- now and every day of the year.

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Arts Watch

By Michael Barnes - American-Statesman

`THE HOBBIT'

It's time for another wave of J.R.R. Tolkien mania, and Second Youth Family Theatre is positioned to take advantage of the hullabaloo. The traditional storytelling and opportunities for stage magic in "The Hobbit" play right into Second Youth's strengths. Sunday at the McGee Performing Arts Center, the city's most accomplished children's theater troupe sweetly staged Edward Mast's fresh and respectful adaptation of the tale.

Director/designer J. Richard Smith provided soaring, imaginative scenery inspired by the book's illustrations and remained true to the spirit of the homebody hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, who goes on a dragon-and-goblin-slaying adventure. Ever pausing to reconsider his situation, R. Michael Clinkscales caught Bilbo's round, reluctant charm. Huck Huckaby oversaw the action as the towering wizard Gandalf, and Hilary Schurwanz nobly enacted the stiff-necked dwarf king, Thorin Oakenshield. Aaron Johnson brought new life to the slippery Golem, choosing not to overemphasize the monster's sibilance while wearing a "Creature from the Black Lagoon" outfit.

While the stage effects never distracted from the narrative, much glory goes to Brian Gaston for his looming dragon puppet and to lighting and sound designers Laura Sandberg and Jonathan Borden, who effectively set the tone for each scene. (A good trick: putting Bilbo in a soft spotlight when made invisible by the ring of power.) This was such a rewarding version of "The Hobbit," I vowed to break out the Tolkien book for the first time in 25 years.

-- M.B. "The Hobbit" continues at 7:30 p.m., Friday and Saturday; 3 p.m., Saturday and Sunday, at Austin High School's McGee Performing Arts Center, 1715 W. Cesar Chavez St., 799-0614.

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Austin Chronicle

The Hobbit: Magical Mystery Tour

Sure things are hard to come by in Austin theatre, but this is one of them: If you go to see a Second Youth production, you're sure to see something magical. In this respect, the company's latest presentation, "The Hobbit", doesn't disappoint. After the lights dim, David Nancarrow's resonant and reverent narration leads us as we watch a war played on a sheer cloth stretched across the stage. Later, a Gollum, played by Aaron Johnson, drips and slides his way onto the stage and engages in another battle, this one of wits, with the hobbit Bilbo Baggins as he attempts to escape from Gollum's moist and echoey lair. Later still, a dragon named Smaug appears - yes, an actual dragon. At first Smaug sleeps, but eventually Bilbo makes so much noise that Smaug wakes - a dragon, a real dragon, that clicks its claws and tosses its head back and forth, stretches its neck up and around, works its jaws and sharp teeth, eyes glowing, seemingly on fire, threatening to crawl right into the now small cavern of the stage, putting to shame every dragon you've ever seen in any movie anywhere because those dragons were celluloid and this dragon is right here, close enough for you to reach out and stroke its scary, scaly skin.

I wish I could say the entire production was like what I've described (especially like Smaug, a puppet designed by Brian Gaston). Not that there aren't other things to enjoy here, not the least of which are Meridith Moseley's costumes earthy and heavily layered for the mountain dwarfs, rich and blue for the humans of Laketown, and Jonathan Hiebert's masks, which greatly assist this group of young actors in establishing the older, fantastic characters of J.R.R. Tolkien's novel. J. Richard Smith's scenic designs also work smoothly and beautifully. Using a few well-placed carts and the drop-and-fly system at Austin High's Jacquelyn McGee Performing Arts Center, Smith creates a hobbit's house, a forest a mountain pass, and various subterranean caverns quickly, easily, and convincingly.

Smith also directs, and it is here that the production is least effective. Generally speaking, the staging doesn't work. Too often the actors don't seem to understand how to move in the proscenium space, and Smith doesn't seem to have helped them. In addition, many of the actors, most of them young and most likely lacking in experience, alter their voices in order to more believably become dwarfs or other creatures, but do not enunciate through their alterations. Thus, much of the dialogue is lost in the nasty acoustics of the auditorium. If it's not enunciation, then it's movement - R. Michael Clinkscales' Bilbo moves so much and so often, it's difficult to concentrate on anything coming out of his mouth. Some of the acting is effective: huck Hucakaby approaches the wizardly Gandolf simply and is easily understood, as are Hilary Schurwanz's soldierly Thorin Oakenshield and Aaron Johnson's bowman Bard. But these are the exceptions. There's magic here, but the production falls short of something much more important - enchantment.

-Barry Pineo

"Little Shop of Horrors" Bewigged chorus and female voice add Austin touches to tale of flesh-eating plant

That plant from outer space is back, and she's one mean mother of a flytrap.

With the company's characteristic polish and musical zip, Zachary Scott Theatre Center opened "Little Shop of Horrors" to a standing ovation Saturday night. Although known for revamping or reinterpreting musicals, director Dave Steakley and musical director Allen Robertson have stuck with tradition this time, although they have added references suited to Austin audiences.

The show by Howard Ashman (books and lyrics) and Allen Menken (music) is set in a foundering flower shop on skid row where grumpy Mr. Mushnik, the owner, has in his employ Audrey, an ill-used platinum blonde with a heart of gold, and Seymour, a timid and clumsy clerk.

Seymour has an interest in unusual plants and has picked up a peculiar botanical in hopes of attracting customers. In honor of Audrey, whom Seymour secretly loves, he names the plant Audrey II. But the second Audrey is nothing like the first, because Audrey II has a big appetite for fresh blood.

At first Seymour balks when hit with Audrey II's demands, but when he realizes that with the fame and fortune supplied by Audrey II he could marry Audrey, his love, and rescue her from a sadistic boyfriend, Seymour figures out a way to meet the plant's sanguinary habits.

The production opens with a chorus à la Motown girl group, and it is here that Steakley and Robertson make their first change when the Beehive ladies appear.

Felicia Dinwiddie, Rebecca Schoolar and Susanne Abbott are Ronnette, Chiffon and Crystal, and not only can these three belt a tune, they can spray Aqua Net like nobody's business. Their vocals on "Skid Row" and "Da-Doo" are top-notch. Since most of the audience members had either seen the Beehive ladies before or knew of them, the insider references to other Zach shows were well-received.

The second change concerns the plant.

Eating it all up, literally, as Audrey II is Janis Stinson, who provides the voice and soul of this ever-growing creature. Usually cast as a man with a Barry White kind of voice, Stinson's very female Audrey II makes perfect sense.

As Seymour, Gerard Lebeda is appropriately nerdy, and the human Audrey, Meredith McCall, has the ditzy blonde bit down. They are both sweet on their solo numbers but revved up "Suddenly Seymour" to a slightly racier level.

Dan Sullivan brings a great physical punch to Orin Scrivello, the sadistic dentist. Although his song "Dentist" took on a stronger S&M quality than I had seen before (something to consider if you want to bring kids to the show), Sullivan's Orin exudes narcissism as Audrey's girlfriend-beating boyfriend. Less broad in his characterization, Scotty Roberts makes Mr. Mushnik a jerk concerned only about his bank account.

Brian Gaston's Toon Town scenic design screams out demented Looney Tunes, and his assorted plant creations culminating in the supersize Audrey II are quite personable, with puppet handlers Susan Shelton and Russell Beach imbuing the creatures with even more personality.

Cartoon-inspired costumes by Star Costume and Clothiers Inc. bring in more glitz and comical touches, such as the teeth hanging off the fringe of Orin's leather jacket. Double kudos to Willa Kaye Warren for perfectly coiffed mile-high wigs.

Although the volume blasted at points, this is the only criticism of an otherwise marvelous evening in Zach's "Little Shop of Horrors."

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Little Shop of Horrors: A Good Time Out of Joint

Context may not be everything, but it can be one hell of a lot. So, in order to render this review of Zachary Scott Theatre Center's Little Shop of Horrors more useful, you've got to know that I saw the original Roger Corman movie about 18 years ago, and the Ashman & Menken remake (directed by Frank Oz) about 14 years ago. And that when I screened, as they say, the latter, I was really, really -- I mean really -- stoned.

Now, you likely realize that watching a movie under the influence of cannabis can allow for a greater appreciation of that movie -- beyond even what the movie may merit on its own. And you may also be aware that the Frank Oz LSOH was pretty damned meritorious to begin with. And you may also be familiar with the sensation of watching a staged version of something available in filmed form, now on video, and wanting to get the hell out of the theatre so you can enjoy a truly decent version of what you're seeing live.

Well, while I was at Zach Scott, I kept wanting to see the video version -- but not because I was disappointed with the scenario unfolding atop the Kleberg stage. No, I wanted to make sure the video was as good as I remembered ... because I was enjoying the live, Dave Steakley-helmed rendition so much that I knew I wanted to have a commensurate recording to enjoy after the show at Zach ended. That's saying a lot, especially considering that, as usual these days, I was under the influence of nothing stronger than a night of brisk Texas air. And why does the show succeed so, um, successfully?

Start with the eyes. They're pleased because all the characters look just like the types they're supposed to be. Gerard Lebeda's Seymour is a gawky nebbish; Meredith McCall's Audrey is a ditzy blonde; Scotty Roberts' Mr. Mushnik is a boss from the same mold that shaped The Jetsons' Mr. Spacely. And consider those Jetsons and how retro that future has become -- for Little Shop is all about retro, set as it is in the Googie 1950s of Brylcreem, B-movies, and Beehives. (And, ah, those Beehive Girls: Felicia Dinwiddie, Rebecca Schoolar, and Susanne Abbott. An absolutely delightful doo-wop of a Motowned Greek chorus.) This production's backdrop features, for instance, a Chock Full O' Nuts billboard -- the stylized percolator of which spouts actual steam throughout the show. Not just attention to detail, see, but attention-to-detail-that-takes-a-bunch-of-extra-work.

Move on to the ears. The pre-show audio is a collection of Fifties pop tunes and radio ads (Ajax, Dippity-do, etc.). And the company's voices in this macabrely silly spectacle? Oh happy day. How sweet for Austin that we have such talent available that we can find good actors with sufficient pipes to do what needs to be done with show tunes. All these performers are top-notch, especially vocally, and especially Lebeda -- if only because he's so convincing as a nerd that the old dulcet tones come as a surprise with each new song.

And we haven't forgotten -- eyes or ears -- about the wild cameos of Dan Sullivan. He portrays Orin, the sadistic dentist (and several other roles that add much comedic spice to the "The Meek Shall Inherit" number), with a nitrous-inspired madness that brings wider grins and laughs to an already smiling crowd.

But there seems to be something that Dave Steakley has forgotten, if only briefly: the context. Steakley is an exacting director who makes this freaky show work so near its highest potential that the glitches furrowed my brow in confusion. I mean, the choice of having a character appear in the guise of the Discovery Channel's Crocodile Hunter, and the invocation of game-show Regis: These are clever gambits, yes, but they jump the audience right out of the story's important temporal surround. It's almost as negatively jarring, albeit fleetingly, as the sight of the growing -- big, bigger, humongous -- man-eating plant Audrey II (built by Brian Gaston, voiced by Janis Stinson, animated by Susan Shelton) is positively jarring.

Those glitches are minor points, though, in this terrific staging of an endearingly weird musical. It's the sort of story you'd think someone would have to be high to imagine, but you can get a lot of kicks from this excellent version while viewing it stone-cold sober.

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The King Stag: A SLICE OF SERENDIPITY

Serendipity, n. The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident. [After the Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip.]

I suppose it wasn't really accidental, when you get right down to it. Happenstance would have been better served had I been, I don't know, just washing my car when a wonderful piece of theatre happened by. I mean, I went to the Dougherty Arts Center knowing I was going to see a play. But I didn't know how wonderful it was going to be.

The King Stag, produced by Second Youth Repertory Family Theatre, is, oddly enough, a fairy tale with Persian visual overtones that takes place in the kingdom of Serendip. In this kingdom lives King Deramo, who is searching for a bride. Three men deliver women to him but only one is chosen. Through the help of a magician's enchanted statue, Deramo discovers which woman truly loves him and, since this is a fairy tale, he discovers that he truly loves her back. But, of course, all cannot end happily there; the power-hungry Tartaglia seeks to change these joyful arrangements with the help of some magic and an evil laugh.

It is also, however, a show about appearances, about the surface of things not necessarily describing their inner shape. And this inner message must have been the starting point for the design team. On the outside, Laura J. Sandberg's lights are floating paper lanterns, J. Richard Smith's set is some rehearsal cubes, and his costumes are artfully draped pieces of colorful fabric. But on the inside, these simple elements combine with Brian Gaston's expressive masks to create a magical world in which this fairy tale can thrive.

The performers know how to make the most of these elements, as well as director and adapter Susan Dillard's take on Carlo Gozzi's 18th-century commedia dell'arte script. Each performance is bold and direct, full of strong postures and clear intentions. The actors move almost as if they are human puppets, controlled by Dillard's deft hand. Granted, some of the performers seem to be struggling to enunciate beyond Gaston's masks, but it isn't a major distraction from the frenetic action and fluid deliveries.

Like the discovery that you can represent a parrot with a piece of green silk - a technique in this production that I found oddly fascinating - the discovery of this fun, visually engaging bit of children's theatre was the slice of serendipity every theatre critic hopes for.

- Adrienne Martini

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